


branch line

by zimtlein



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Declining Health, Defying Fate, F/M, Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV (2016), Not A Fix-It, Self-Doubt, Self-Sacrifice, defying the gods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21607537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimtlein/pseuds/zimtlein
Summary: The gods stay quiet. So Lunafreya makes her own decision and lives with the consequences.
Relationships: Lunafreya Nox Fleuret/Aranea Highwind (one-sided), Lunafreya Nox Fleuret/Regis Lucis Caelum
Kudos: 8





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [tisapear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisapear/gifts).



In the past, Gentiana oftentimes was quiet, a soft smile on her lips. In the past, Gentiana sometimes kept her eyes closed, her hands clasped, not a single word escaping her. Behind the way she tilted her head, Lunafreya always figured out the unspoken truth. This time, however, Gentiana isn’t here with her. The night is quiet, refusing her the answer she needs. No matter how hard she prays, forming words with her lips that get lost in loneliness, the familiar sound of a knock against her door doesn’t echo in her room.

Lunafreya feels alone.

She looks out of her window. Clutches one hand to her chest. Nothing moves outside. Tenebrae has been mostly spared of the chaos that is spreading in other places, and Lunafreya’s heart aches. She sees shadows. Two familiar figures moving through the darkness. The Commodore’s men, she realizes. One of them is throwing his head back in laughter. She watches them, brows furrowed. It almost seems like a wink of fate. Or a nudge into a direction she shouldn’t take.

If there was someone to answer, she wouldn’t be that lost. If there was someone to tell her what to do, she wouldn’t feel as restless. But as it stands, her thoughts won’t stop swirling through her head. Premonitions she didn’t dare tell anyone. Suspicions that make her quiver with fear. She keeps watching the two men, wishes she could hear them. Wishes there would be anything she could do.

Lunafreya is alone.

She closes her eyes for a moment, then turns away from the window. The gods won’t talk to her. So be it. She strips out of her nightdress, opens her closet. She chooses the plainest dress she owns, pulls a simple coat off its hook. Her hair is a bit messy, and she rakes her fingers through it to dishevel it even further. Her face is bare of any makeup. She blinks at her reflection in the vanity table’s mirror, at blue eyes. She ignores the wrinkle having formed between her brows.

Quickly, she grabs a piece of paper and a pen, her hand so shaky her letters become messy and almost unreadable. She folds the paper, once, twice, and carefully places it on the bed.

In front of the door, she hesitates. Once she walks out of this room, there is no going back. She knows as much. Her fingers clasped around the door handle feel cold. Her knuckles become white. There’s a birthmark right underneath her wrist, and she stares at it until she finally finds the courage to open the door.

It’s not the first time she sneaks out of her room, out of the building she was never able to call home. She knows the guards’ routes, knows where to be especially careful. Her steps are quiet. Shadows hide her until she arrives at the hangar. Despite wearing a coat, she shivers underneath the night’s breath.

The Commodore’s men are still talking to each other. Their voices are loud enough to drown out the sound of her steps. She wraps her arms around herself and comes to a halt before them. It takes some moments until first one of them, then the other one takes notice of her.

“W-wait,” one of them says, his heavy accent making the word sound sluggish. “Are you … Lady Lunafreya?”

She presses one finger to her lips, her voice a soft whisper. “Good evening, Sir …?”

The men look at each other. The air around them feels heavy. “Biggs Callux,” the slightly taller one of them says. The other man doesn’t react to her expectant look, and Biggs answers for him. “And Wedge Kincaid. Don’t wanna step out of line, but Lady Lunafreya, are you supposed to be out that late?”

“I’m not,” she says, observing the area. “I apologize for intruding, but I have a request to make.”

Biggs keeps looking at her. “Uhm, sure.”

“I want to speak with the Commodore.”

The men exchange a glance. “Sure thing,” Biggs says. “Lady A will be up and about right in the morning. I’ll let her know.”

Impatience tickles in her fingertips. “I haven’t made myself clear. I apologize. But I need to speak with her now. Right now.”

Another glance at each other. Wedge looks at her with a coldness she doesn’t quite know how to react to. Still, it’s Biggs who answers again. “Dunno if she already went to bed. Didn’t want to have an after-work drink with us, at least.”

“Could you check?” Despite the urgency in her voice, Biggs doesn’t move. She holds his gaze. “I beg of you. Please.”

“I, uhm,” Biggs stutters, “I’ll see what I can do.” He throws one last look at Wedge, who looks unimpressed, almost annoyed. “I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you, Sir Callux.”

Steps echo in the distance. Silence engulfs them. For a moment, Lunafreya allows herself to close her eyes and release a shuttering breath. Her stomach is churning. She feels like she is making a grave mistake, and yet she can’t banish the thought from her mind. The gods won’t answer her. Gentiana won’t answer her. If she obeyed, if she put her whole trust in the Six, if she cast any and all doubts aside –

“The Emperor won’t be happy to hear about this,” Wedge says.

The sound of his voice makes her flinch. “Not if nobody ever tells him.”

Wedge snorts and stays silent.

They wait. It’s cold. For some peculiar reason, Lunafreya awaits the touch of a hand on her shoulder. Gentiana, soothing her with soft words, telling her there is no need to worry (the gods are looking out for her, they always are). Ravus, his angry tone hiding just how much he cares for her (he’d never let anything happen to her, she knows, oh she knows).

But nobody does so, and after minutes of waiting, the Commodore appears, clad in such ordinary clothes that Lunafreya needs a moment to recognize her.

“What do we have here? A visit from a sneaky little princess.” The Commodore stops next to Wedge, arms crossed. Biggs takes the empty space left to her. There is an intimidating air to them, the way they naturally seem to fall into a formation they certainly became used to in countless battles. Lunafreya feels herself shiver and holds her chin high.

“Commodore Highwind,” she greets, reminding herself why she is here, why she has to do this. “I am no longer a princess, as you may know.”

“Right, but a queen in the making.” Aranea bows her head, almost mockingly so. “What brings you here at this late hour?”

Lunafreya sets her jaw. She sends a pointed look in Biggs’, then Wedge’s direction. Biggs fidgets, but makes no move to leave.

“Private matters?” There’s laughter in Aranea’s eyes.

“I’d prefer to involve as few people as possible.”

That makes the amusement on Aranea’s face fall the tiniest bit. She puts one hand on her hips and nods at her men. The flicker of caution in her eyes isn’t lost on Lunafreya. There’s a meaning in the looks all three of them exchange that she can’t quite catch.

It takes a few seconds until Aranea and she are alone on the vast hangar. Lunafreya makes sure to stay in the shadows, hidden from eyes deciding to wander over the place from the safety of high, artfully crafted towers.

“I believe we have never exchanged more than a few words before,” Aranea says. A safe distance lies between them. “So, please forgive me for being a bit surprised.”

“I certainly can’t blame you.” Lunafreya feels a kind of fear thudding in her heart she has never felt before. Not underneath the protective hand of the gods, at least. “Still, I’ve heard a lot about you over the last few years.”

Aranea cocks an eyebrow in response.

“For example,” Lunafreya continues, “the fact that you’ve lived your life as a mercenary until you decided to take the Empire up on its offer.”

“So?”

“A mercenary without alliance, loyal to no one but herself and her men. An unpredictable, yet fierce warrior. No wonder the Empire made sure to keep an eye on you.”

A beat. Lunafreya tries to hide the tremor running down her spine. There were enough times she willed her voice to be strong and steady even when she was quivering inside. Seemingly unimpressed, Aranea keeps looking at her.

“Say, Commodore Highwind.” She lowers her voice, her body unmoving. “How loyal are you to the Empire?”

Aranea narrows her eyes. “If this is a test, you’re not being very subtle about it.”

“It isn’t. Because I ask of you to push any feeling of loyalty towards the Emperor aside and help me escape in secret. Tonight.”

Aranea doesn’t move. Any trace of amusement is gone. “You are about to be betrothed to the Prince of Lucis.”

“Yes.”

“If I remember correctly, you’ll be sent to the Crown City in two days to make it official.”

“Yes.”

“What is this? A severe case of cold feet?”

Lunafreya digs her fingernails into the palm of her hand, hopes for the pain to shake the coldness from her. “In an ideal world, I would be overjoyed at the prospect of marrying Prince Noctis. Yet as it stands, I cannot fend off the feeling of uncertainty. The Emperor is not offering peace at such terms out of the kindness of his heart.”

Aranea tilts her head. “So you are going to rebel and run away?”

“No. I’m going to be one step ahead.”

A deep breath sings in her chest. Lunafreya feels scared. The taste of freedom is just out of reach. She licks her dry lips and meets Aranea’s eyes.

“I ask you to take me to the Crown City.”

“Tonight,” Aranea adds.

“Yes.”

One corner of Aranea’s mouth twitches upwards. The half-smile is gone in a second again. “You know what you’re asking of me right now? It’s not a fun two-hour ride to the Kingdom of Lucis. You’re supposed to be guarded by a whole goddamn army on the way. The journey will take you days.”

“I’m fully aware.”

Aranea laughs. It sounds entirely unamused. “Your brother dear will wonder why the hell I’d suddenly leave Niflheim without notice. And why his beloved sister vanished just the same evening.”

“I left a letter for my brother, telling him I took my leave at dawn.”

With a weak shake of her head, Aranea keeps staring at her. “That’s your grand plan? Trusting your brother will believe I didn’t kidnap you? You’re asking me to risk not only my position, but also my life, dear Oracle.”

A sudden decision, a thought that formed in mere seconds, and Lunafreya feels her shoulders shake, her doubts creeping over her skin until her hair stands on end. “Of course. I understand. In that case, I will ask you to please pretend that this conversation never happened.” She bows her head slightly. “I will be taking my leave either way. Tonight.”

“On your own? In the middle of the night, with no weapon, all on your own? Trying to get to the Kingdom of Lucis by foot? Are you suicidal?”

The words come out in a hiss, and Lunafreya feels herself wince underneath them. She keeps a straight face. “It seems the gods have left me no choice.”

“The gods?” Aranea repeats. She steps closer, close enough for the sudden proximity to make a shiver run down Lunafreya’s spine. “You’ve got a brain of your own, right? Then think for a second. Either you’ll die out there because you can’t defend yourself even against the weakest of deamons, or you’ll be picked up by the Empire before you reach the Eastern coast. I’m sorry, but I don’t think your survival skills are great enough to not be killed off after one minute in the wilderness anyway.”

The words are harsh. Lunafreya doesn’t move. “If I do nothing, all of Eos will be befallen by a danger greater than you can imagine.”

“That’s what your gods said?”

“That’s what they refuse to admit to me.”

A moment of silence. Aranea’s expression is torn between disbelief and anger. “You want to throw you own life away because of some weird premonition?”

Lunafreya’s hands aren’t shaking. Her resolve isn’t crumbling. “I am the Oracle. I am the connection between humans and gods. None of my premonitions have ever been insignificant.” She raises her chin sharply. “I don’t ask you to believe my words. All I ask is for you to stay quiet. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

Before she can turn away, a hand on her shoulder holds her back. Aranea is still staring at her like she has lost her mind, but her words are gentle. “Stubborn, aren’t you?”

Lunafreya isn’t sure if she expects an answer.

“If we take one of my airships, we’ll avoid being seen at the Eastern coast,” Aranea continues anyway. “We’ll even avoid the border controls. Only problem: we shouldn’t really take off here. Too suspicious. But I’m thinking …” Her hand slides from Lunafreya’s shoulder. “Wedge gets you outside the city, I stay here until midday. Acting all surprised when you’re nowhere to be found. Then Biggs and I pick up the two of you in the middle of nowhere. Nobody sees anything. How’s that sound?”

“You’re helping me.”

“Look. I’m making sure you don’t get killed, that’s all.”

It feels like a weight being lifted off her chest. It feels like a wink of fate, even though it shouldn’t be. It’s a decision she made on her own. Consequences she’ll have to shoulder herself. She feels terrified.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her throat constricting.

“Yeah,” Aranea mutters. She seems a bit helpless as she pats Lunafreya’s shoulder. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I? Then again, I never liked the Emperor in the first place, so what the hell do I care.” Her hand drops to her side. “Just one thing I’ll ask for in return.”

Lunafreya clears her throat and straightens her back. “I will see to it that you receive the monetary compensation this task demands. At the moment, my hands are bound, but rest assured –”

“I want the whole story. Every tiny detail.”

She almost wants to smile. “Of course.”

During their preparations, Lunafreya waits for it. For a sign that this is the wrong path. For Gentiana to appear before her, softly shaking her head. For someone to tell her that the nervous flutter in her stomach is not the anticipation of freedom, but the bad omen it should be.

Nothing happens. No one appears.

Wedge reacts to the Commodore’s commands with a raise of his eyebrows. He doesn’t protest, though. As instructed, Lunafreya huddles up against boxes and bags full of weapons and food supplies in the back of Aranea’s truck. She can hardly breathe in there. Her hands are constantly shaking. She is so cold that she wraps two fingers around her icy nose, trying to catch her warm breath on her skin. It reeks of old cloth and gun powder.

Lunafreya is still terrified. It’s kind of amazing, she begins to think.

In the middle of nowhere, Wedge stops the truck. At first, Lunafreya thinks something happened. She hears the low, vibrating sound of deamons in the distance. She can almost feel the coldness they emit on her skin. Someone enters the back of the truck, and it takes her a few seconds to recognize Wedge’s voice.

“We’re outside the capital now. The passenger seat will be more comfortable.”

He pushes boxes and bags away until the night sky catches her eyes. Lunafreya feels so cold that her teeth are rattling. She hopes it doesn’t show too much as Wedge helps her stand. Her legs feel weak.

“Thank you, Sir Kincaid.”

He grunts in response.

It’s warm inside the truck’s front part. She feels her stiff limbs relax as soon as she lets herself fall into the soft cushion. Silence lies over them as the truck starts moving. The night sky stretches, touches the horizon, snow-white summits doting darkness. Lunafreya’s gaze sways to the daemons floating over the fields. They shy away from the truck’s front light with sharp hisses. If she looks closely enough, she can almost believe something like sadness glimmers in their eyes.

“We have until evening to arrive at the rendezvous point,” Wedge says.

She looks at him. The words hang in the air, and she waits for him to continue. He doesn’t. “I remember.”

His sigh makes her think she missed something she shouldn’t have. “It offers an opportunity to rest and eat. We should avoid busier places.”

“I agree. Thank you for your consideration, Sir Kincaid.”

He doesn’t answer. The awkward silence makes Lunafreya’s cheeks warm.

The soft rattling of the vehicle, the low sounds in the distance manage to lull her to sleep, her cheek propped on her hand. When she awakes, the sun is already rising. Her elbow hurts from the unnatural position, and she stretches it with a pained sound. She blinks against the dawning light which bathes the summits in dancing colors.

“I didn’t realize I was that tired,” she mumbles. “I apologize.” She shoots a look in Wedge’s direction, and she becomes painfully aware of the fact that she can’t even offer him to take over for an hour or two. She bites the inside of her cheek. The only answer she gets is a nod she almost doesn’t take notice of.

They stop at an unremarkable inn near an almost empty road. Sunlight warms Lunafreya’s cheeks. She looks at herself in one of the inn’s windows and hopes she isn’t too recognizable. Her hair looks even messier than yesterday, which she supposes is good, and she follows Wedge through the entrance.

Of course she has eaten outside the Tenebraen castle before. She knows the taste of burgers and fries. Faintly, but still. Yet she can’t help but feel a little bit grateful when Wedge orders for her – large fries and a cheeseburger. He even pays, and it makes Lunafreya fidget on the spot.

She doesn’t realize how hungry she is until they sit at a booth and she takes the first bite. As she chews, she has to close her eyes, holding back a sound from escaping her throat. She likes Tenebraen cuisine, she can tolerate the Uelthamian one, but nothing is quite as pleasing as such a sinfully rich taste.

“Thank you,” she manages between bites. “Not only for the meal. Also for bringing me here. For doing all of this for me.”

“Doing it for Lady A, not you.”

There’s a harsh coldness to his words, but Lunafreya smiles nonetheless. “It doesn’t change the fact that you are risking a lot for me. I’m incredibly grateful.”

Wedge shrugs. Maybe she is just imagining it, or maybe there really is a hint of embarrassment dancing over his expression.

Nobody recognizes her, or if they do, nobody says anything. She is glad. They rent a tiny room on the upper floor with only one bed. Wedge offers her to take it, but she softly shakes her head and tells him she will wait outside. It’s the middle of the day, after all. The warning in Wedge eyes isn’t hard to notice: don’t do anything rash. Stay careful. She will stay right outside the inn, she assures him.

While Wedge rests, she stays outside, the sun shining down on her. For a moment, she closes her eyes. It’s quiet here. Hardly any cars pass the road. She takes a deep breath and waits for it. The sight of Gentiana in the distance, wind playing with her hair, steps certain. Pryna looking up at her, tail slowly swaying from left to right. Sudden clouds darkening the sky, showing her which path to take.

She opens her eyes. Everything stays the same.

She presses one hand against her racing heart.

Watching the few people going in and out of the inn, she waits for Wedge to join her again. Her feet start to hurt, so she sits down on one of the windowsills, making sure to stay in the sunlight. It’s cold and she is still shivering, but the sun’s warmth manages to calm her down the tiniest bit.

It’s afternoon when Wedge appears next to her. Nobody spoke with her. Least of all the gods themselves.

“Ready to go?” she asks, sending him a smile. He doesn’t return it and nods.

The roads they take stay lonely. The truck shakes on uneven ground, and Lunafreya has to hold onto the dashboard to steady herself. Niflheim’s airship stands out from miles away, surrounded by tall trees. For a moment, she wonders what they would do if it wasn’t Aranea’s. Run away? Hide? Surrender themselves to the fate the gods have finally chosen for them?

But the closer they get, the easier it is to make out Aranea, arms crossed as she waits for them to reach her.

Lunafreya feels a smile form on her lips. “I can’t believe this is really happening,” it escapes her.

Puzzled, Wedge shoots a look at her.

“I never dared think about running away.”

“Seems like you found the courage at last,” he says.

At last. She agrees wordlessly.

From up here, Lunafreya can see the ocean spreading, dark blue waves crawling over the surface of the water. Like a shadow moving in uneven patterns. Niflheim lies behind them, the distance making it look drenched in dense fog. She turns to the cockpit again, watching the back of Biggs’ head. Wedge is standing right next to him, one hand leaned on Biggs’ seat. With him, Wedge seems less silent. It’s the first time she hears him laugh, too. The Kingdom of Lucis rises on the horizon, a hazy image, and her heart gives a thump.

A steady voice next to her interrupts her thoughts. “Not getting seasick, queen-to-be?”

She turns her head, giving Aranea a smile. “Commodore Highwind. I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. I know how much I asked of you –”

“Call me Aranea.”

The magitek engine sways a little bit, but Biggs seems to have it under control just fine. Lunafreya doesn’t know much about Niflheim’s technology – nobody ever bothered to tell her too much, and those who would have been willing to didn’t know a lot either – but a funny feeling settles in her stomach nonetheless. An instinct buried in her mind, a little voice cutting through her thoughts, and she tries her best not to let it get to her.

“Aranea,” she says. The name feels foreign on her tongue. “Then thank you, Aranea.”

“You still owe me something, though.”

Lunafreya sends her a quick look before turning to the front window again. “The whole story, you said. I remember.”

“Must be something big if it makes you run away from your dream wedding.”

The words make her smile yet again. There’s a bitterness to the thought that shakes her to the core. She takes a breath and tries to shove every dark thought from her.

“I keep dreaming about King Regis. I have a feeling something is going to happen to him if I don’t take action.”

In front of them, Biggs and Wedge keep talking. Aranea steps a bit closer, lowering her voice.

“You mean, if the peace treaty ceremony goes just the way the Emperor planned, something is gonna happen to the King?”

Lunafreya’s lips are dry. She looks at Aranea, this time longer. At eyes that return her look steadily. “I believe so. And even worse, I think it will affect all of Eos.”

“So you want to warn King Regis before that shit goes down?”

“Yes.”

“Your plan pretty much fucks up the whole peace treaty thing. No end of the war, then. But I guess you already know as much.”

She doesn’t allow herself to falter in the face of such a harsh truth. “I know. I am putting a whole kingdom at risk. If I’m wrong – if this really is about peace, if the Emperor is finally ready to see how senseless this war is …” She hesitates, hesitates even longer, waits for a glimmer of something in Aranea’s eyes. It never appears. “Then I’ll be responsible for even more suffering.”

Aranea nods slowly. “Honestly? Look at Aldercapt for more than a second, and then tell me someone like him is capable of seeing the stupidity of his actions.” She nods again, seemingly more to herself than to Lunafreya. “I’m sorry, but I trust this man as far as I can throw him.” A quick glance, Aranea’s lips curling into a smile. “You still don’t seem too convinced by your own words.”

“Usually …” Lunafreya swallows down the lump in her throat. “I waited for a sign of the gods, for them to tell me if I’m making the right decision. But they chose to be silent.”

Aranea tilts her head. “Ah, yeah. Your gods.”

“They are also yours.”

“Right.” Something about Aranea’s laugh makes an ice-cold feeling settle in Lunafreya’s stomach. “So if our gods told you to twiddle your thumbs and be a good future queen, you would obey?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Sure it isn’t.” She snorts, a hand on her hip, and directs her eyes at the view before her. “So you had to wait for your gods to shut up to finally make your own choice.”

Lunafreya furrows her eyebrows. “You think I never made my own choices?”

“I’m not talking about choices like, oh, which dress will I wear today? Will I eat porridge for breakfast, or will I be rebellious and choose scrambled eggs instead?” Aranea sends her a long look. Under it, Lunafreya feels her heart pound. “I’m talking about the important ones. What you want out of life. Like, will I stay locked up in a castle forever like a good princess? Or will I take charge of my own future and do whatever I feel like doing?”

“As the Oracle, my future lies within the future of the people.”

“Pretty words. Make you sound like a real martyr.”

She furrows her brows even further. “I didn’t choose to be the Oracle. But I’m obligated to fulfill my role as one.”

“Are you?” Aranea asks quietly. The way she looks at Lunafreya makes something inside her chest stir. “Right now, are you trying to save the King because you are the Oracle? Or because you want to?”

Both, she wants to say. But there is not definite answer. The gods stayed silent, and the path she is taking is an unsure one. She struggles for an answer. So she decides on the most practical one, her voice quiet. “As the Oracle, it is my duty to protect the King.”

“Even if the gods didn’t tell you to?”

“Even then,” she whispers.

Aranea snorts. It doesn’t carry the scorn Lunafreya expected. “Yeah. You know, I’ve always liked my women stubborn.”

“I’m not aiming to become one of your women.”

The words draw a sigh, then a weak laugh from Aranea. It slowly dawns on Lunafreya, and when the realization finally hits, she feels her cheeks heat up. She opens her mouth to continue, but Aranea cuts her off.

“Clueless and stubborn.” Aranea tilts her head. “And surprisingly dedicated, too. What a pity.” She taps against the tip of Lunafreya’s nose, and in response, Lunafreya winces back, her eyes wide. “Since your marriage is pretty much cancelled …”

“I’m not …” Lunafreya stumbles over her words. “As much as I …”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, pretty princess. I’m just making fun of you.” A smirk forms on Aranea’s lips. “Guess that makes me jobless again, though. I don’t believe my superiors will believe any excuse I dish out to them. Think my days in the Empire’s ranks are counted.”

Lunafreya clears her throat. “Of course. I will forever be grateful for what you did for me. And what you are leaving behind for me.”

“Yeah, don’t worry. Always thought there’s something fishy about the Empire. Especially that weird Chancellor.” With a shrug, Aranea crosses her arms. “You ever saw him?”

“Once or twice.”

“And?”

Lunafreya can’t really put it into words. Some instinct of hers drawing her to him, an instinct she recognized as her healing powers. A feeling that only tore at her at the sight of daemons already lost to darkness, humans on the verge of the abyss. She scrunches her nose up. “I am wary of him.”

“Can’t blame you.”

The Kingdom of Lucis draws nearer, a landmass in the distance. Lunafreya clenches her hands to fists and relaxes them again. Her heart is beating so fast she is afraid Aranea can hear it.

“What are you going to do?” Aranea asks.

She looks at her, eyebrows drawn together. Aranea’s arms are still crossed, her weight shifted on one leg. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll warn King Regis. What do you think will happen?”

She exhales shakily. It’s a fear she didn’t dare think about, and it leaves her lips in a raspy whisper. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

“Well. Use your power as the Oracle, then.”

She wants to laugh. “My only power is to heal.”

“Yeah?” Aranea sends her a side-glance. “As the only Oracle in Eos, isn’t there more to your position than some fancy healing powers?” After seconds of silence, Aranea turns her head to her again, a silent prompt in her eyes. “Isn’t there more to you than listening to some stupid gods and being a pretty princess to be married away?”

Something inside Lunafreya threatens to break. She presses her lips together and holds the tears back from spilling over.

“Maybe there is.”

Insomnia’s borders are just a few miles away. Lunafreya smooths her dress down – a black one that barely reaches her knees, something Aranea paid for, waving her hand dismissively when Lunafreya apologized for the inconvenience – and next to her, Biggs gives a whistle.

“Been an eternity since we’ve been here, hasn’t it, Lady A?”

“Sure has been,” Aranea says. “While the King is happily hiding behind his walls, we’re fighting his fights. But whatever.”

Lunafreya sends her a look. After freezing in Nilfheim’s coldness, Leide’s harsh sun almost hurts on her face. Her pale skin has already turned a bit red, so she makes sure to stay in the airship’s shadows. “King Regis is protecting his people.”

“His people are also out here, fearing the Empire’s troops. But like I said – whatever.” Aranea returns her look, one hand on her hips. “Don’t wanna step on your toes, pretty princess.”

“It’s easy to blame a single person for the fate of a whole world,” Lunafreya responds, her chin held high. “It’s easier to search for a scapegoat than to question the actions of many.”

Aranea snorts. “Yeah, yeah. King Regis is doing his best. I get it. Just don’t expect me to believe it.”

“Just agree on disagreeing and have it over with,” Biggs sighs. “Frankly, hearing the same discussion again and again? Getting tiring.” Next to him, Wedge silently smirks, one eyebrow quirking up.

Lunafreya can’t hold back a tiny smile. She grabs hold of Aranea’s arm. “Then I invite you to come with me. King Regis should know who was willing to help me for his sake. And you should know the King I want to protect.”

“Really thoughtful,” Aranea laughs. She softly removes Lunafreya’s hand again, fingertips resting on pale knuckles. Lunafreya almost jolts at the electrifying feeling of Aranea’s thumb stroking her skin. She doesn’t really know what to do with the warmth in her cheeks. “But that’s as far as we can accompany you. Insomnia won’t be too happy about seeing a Niflheimian airship.”

“Leave the airship outside. Come with me as people not bound by anyone’s rules but their own.”

Aranea sighs, and it’s Biggs who answers in her stead. “Kind of you, Lady Lunafreya. But if there’s somethin’ none of us can stand, then it’s being trapped in an overstuffed city, y’know?”

“We prefer freedom,” Aranea continues. “And to not be found out by the Empire as long as we can.”

Lunafreya takes a deep breath. Heat crawls over her skin, and Aranea lets go of her, leaving a feeling of odd emptiness. There’s no one to hold her back from taking this path now, so she straightens her back. “I cannot thank you enough. All three of you.”

The smile on Aranea’s lips seems so affectionate that Lunafreya almost feels her heart flutter. “I trust you more than any of our gods. Would do you some good to do the same.”

Those words get stuck in her head as Lunafreya says her goodbyes, hugging Biggs and Wedge tightly enough to make both of them fidget nervously in her arms. The hug Aranea and she share is softer, and Lunafreya has to close her eyes at the warm feeling dancing through her stomach. It’s difficult to walk away from them. It’s even more difficult to hold back her tears when she looks over her shoulder after a short while. They’ve already disappeared into the airship. The sun is shining down on her, its heat a harsh presence that pulls her back to the here and now.

She’s all on her own, she begins to realize. All on her own, with no one beside her to show her what to do. All on her own, and any choice she will make now will be hers and hers alone.

The border to the city is guarded by three soldiers. The closer Lunafreya comes, the more they seem to tense up. One of them eventually lifts his weapon, aiming at her from the distance. The sight doesn’t intimidate her. She doesn’t stop.

“Stop right there,” the soldier calls out to her. “We’re taking no refugees in. Turn around and go your way, and nothing will happen to you.”

She thinks of Aranea’s words and wills her voice to sound as strong as she should feel. “I am Lunafreya Nox Fleuret. As the Oracle, I demand to speak to the King.”

Silence washes over them. She takes another step, then another, and the soldier gives a start. “Right. And I’m the crown prince. Stop right there or I will shoot.”

“Do so and explain to King Regis that you were the one killing Eos’ Oracle.”

She doesn’t stop. She sees the weapon in the soldier’s hands shake. The closer she comes, the more scared he seems. It’s a sort of power she never experienced before. It’s more than simple authority – it’s an electrifying feeling, tickling in her fingertips.

“Lady Lunafreya is supposed to be brought here by the Empire,” another one of the soldiers says. He sounds calmer, analyzing her with a cold look.

“And if you paid any attention,” she retorts, “you will know that I was supposed to arrive in the Crown City two days ago.”

It’s a fact the general public shouldn’t know. It’s a fact that lets the other soldier lower his weapon again, his eyes wide. She doesn’t stop until she is standing in front of them, her shoulders rolled back and her eyes swaying from man to man. She doesn’t smile.

“I demand to speak to the King,” she repeats.

This time, nobody objects.

She has never been in Insomnia before. She has heard stories, and she can faintly remember Noctis’ accounts. As a child, he was as fascinated by Tenebrae’s countless cliffs, vines hanging off their edges and trees’ roots clanging to lose ends, as she was by his tales of busy streets, masses of people strolling along even at night. Staring out of the car’s window, she tries to remember Noctis’ face. It’s almost ironic that she has more memories of Regis – his eyes, his mimic, the sound of his voice – than of her husband-to-be.

But she supposes there’s no wedding to be held anymore, so there’s no fiancé to think about either.

People seemed nervous around her as they made calls. To her, the reactions are funny at best. The more pride she shows, the more people seem to fidget around her. Even the driver is sending her looks through the rearview mirror. When she smiles back at his reflection, he jolts, his hands gripping the steering wheel harder than before.

Insomnia is nothing like she expected, though. It doesn’t carry the same elegance she dreamt about. There is no dark, captivating pull to it. If she had to describe it, she would say it’s underwhelming. With people that are no different from Niflheim’s inhabitants. With streets that resemble Gralea’s.

The car stops in front of a set of stairs leading to an impressive building. Its white façade glisters in the sunlight. Lunafreya steps out of the car before someone can hold the door open for her. On the asphalt, her shoes click almost too loudly. She has to squint her eyes as she looks up, the view before her almost blindingly bright.

“The Oracle herself,” she hears someone say. A man standing in the entrance to the building, clad in attire that she recognizes as one only members of the royal council are allowed to wear. “First gone missing. Then appearing out of thin air. What a surprising twist to see you here, Lady Lunafreya.”

She shields her face from the sun with a hand, shuffling through her memories, but finding none including this man. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’m not too familiar with Lucis’ important people.”

The man laughs. It’s a deep and vibrating sound, more honest than she expected. “Clarus Amicitia. The King’s Shield.”

“Oh.” She bows her head. “I apologize, Lord Clarus. I didn’t realize …”

“You’ve never met be before, Oracle. There is nothing to apologize for.”

She can hear heavy steps. Clarus is approaching her, and she meets him halfway, climbing the stairs until the Citadel throws its shadow over her. The place is surrounded by guards, she realizes. It’s vacant of civilians other than herself. Still, the city’s constant noise swashing over the gates, a low mumbling in the background.

“We were in the middle of a meeting when the news of your arrival was brought to us,” Clarus says. A small smile graces his lips. “In fact, we were discussing what to do after your disappearance. The Empire is about to accuse us of kidnapping you.”

She exhales slowly, controlling her breathing. He is taller than her, even more so while he is standing further upstairs. “It would be a perfect excuse to attack Insomnia. But they didn’t. Let me guess – either the Emperor or his Chancellor asked for a meeting inside the Crown City.”

Clarus’ smile pales. “You were told about their plans?”

“No. But I can put two and two together.”

“That’s why you demand to talk to the King?”

The sardonic undertone isn’t lost on her. Lunafreya doesn’t avoid his stare. “Yes. And I would prefer to talk with him alone.”

“As his Shield, I will not leave his side.”

“As the Oracle, I demand you do.”

Clarus barks out a laugh. It sends a shiver down her spine. “I don’t think you are in a position to make such demands, Lady Lunafreya.”

Words won’t help. So she stays silent as she passes Clarus, heading for the Citadel’s entrance without a moment of hesitation. She doesn’t allow her knees to shake. She doesn’t allow her hands to tremble. She keeps them at her side steadily, holding herself back from clutching her dress’ fabric. It takes some time until she hears steps behind her.

“There are matters that you have no control of,” he says behind her. “You must be aware of that.”

She doesn’t stop. There’s a hidden, lingering fear to his voice, and it’s all the confirmation she needs. Her heels click on the Citadel’s tiled floor. The secretary at one of the front desks stares at her as she approaches. There’s a second reception desk, but it’s empty.

“King Regis is awaiting me,” Lunafreya tells her.

The secretary gapes. First at her, then at Clarus, who comes to a halt next to Lunafreya.

“The King is making preparations,” Clarus says. “Everyone is. He doesn’t have time for a meeting, even if it’s with the Oracle.”

She turns to the man, pinning him down with a look, jaw set. “Preparations to let the Empire in.”

“Lucis’ political decisions should be none of your concern.”

“I wonder how much of it really is a political decision.” She looks at the secretary again. “The King is awaiting me, and I will speak to him. If you’d be kind enough to tell me about his whereabouts?”

“Please excuse us,” Clarus says, all smiles and politeness, as he plants a hand on Lunafreya’s shoulder. She shakes it off immediately. “You can speak to him in the evening when the Council has come to an agreement. As his Shield, I will be by his side then, and –”

“No. I will speak to him right now. Alone.”

Clarus gives a drawn-out sigh, and Lunafreya almost starts to feel sorry for what she is putting him through. But she doesn’t apologize.

“Is there a problem?”

Even after years of hearing him over TV or radio, hearing his words echo in the hall still makes her heart jump. She whirls around. Her breath almost gets stuck in her throat when she sees the King at the other end of the room. Before she knows it, her feet are already moving, a slow step at first, then a faster one, so fast the clicking sound of her heels hurts in her ears.

There’s a smile on his face when she approaches, a smile that almost makes her burst into tears. When she stops in front of him, she notices the cane in his right hand. She doesn’t question it, not at first. She can only focus on his quiet whisper.

“Lunafreya. My gods, it really is you.”

Tears burning in her eyes, she bows her head. “King Regis Lucis Caelum. I finally … I came here to see you, and …”

“A cup of tea, dear? To calm your nerves.”

She exhales shakily and tries to smile. “Please.”

She is led through endless hallways by Clarus and the King. He looks old, she suddenly realizes. Too old for his age, at least – he can’t be older than fifty, but the way he holds himself, the wrinkles on his face tell another story. He’s a slow walker, supporting himself on the cane with every step. It’s clear to her that he tries his best to walk with a straight back, with a posture that speaks of pride. She doesn’t know if he does so because of her or because he is lying to himself, too.

In front of her, Clarus is whispering to the King. She can’t hear the exact words, but the faces he pulls are enough to guess what their quiet conversation is about. For now, she remains silent. King Regis seems unimpressed, even snorting at one point. Their conversation dies down when they reach a particularly fancy room, white couches and coffee tables made of glass awaiting them.

“Take a seat, please,” Clarus sighs. “I will inform one of the servants of your presence. Anything they can bring you, Lady Lunafreya?”

She smiles. “I’ll let them decide.”

“Very well.” With one last look at the King, Clarus leaves the room.

The King needs some time to properly sit down across from her. She is just about to help him, but a voice inside her head tells her to better not remind him of his state. She knows of Lucis’ traditions from Gentiana, partially from Ravus, from stories of people who have been in the Crown City years ago. She knows about the crystal the King protects, one of the oldest gifts the gods have given their people. But the details aren’t known to her. She doesn’t know if the crystal is at fault for making King Regis appear so much older than he really is, or if it is only a biological process.

“You’ve become just the young woman I always imagined you would be,” King Regis says, a smile tucking at the corners of his mouth.

Lunafreya almost jolts. Her hands rest on her lap. “I wish we could have meet sooner.”

A smile, this time a genuine one. She feels her cheeks become warm.

“But I’ve come here to warn you,” she continues quietly.

His smile slowly fades. His elbows are propped on his knees, his hands clasped. He looks at her soberly, and seconds pass in silence until she clears her throat and speaks up again.

“You cannot let the Empire enter Insomnia.”

Still silence. Her fingertips twitch. She feels her heart pound in her chest.

“I can’t tell you what exactly will happen. I just know that it will change the fate of Eos. And …”

“How did you come to this conclusion, Lady Lunafreya?”

She ignores the sour taste on her tongue. “I … The gods refuse to talk to me, but I know. I just know that it will happen, and I …”

The door opens. A servant appears, carrying a tray, a teapot and two cups made of glass on it. Lunafreya thanks her with a shaky smile as her tea gets poured. She takes a sip. It’s too hot. Her tongue almost gets burned. The servant leaves the room again. Calm, green eyes are directed at her.

“So you came here to warn me,” King Regis says, “without truly being able to name this ominous threat.”

She feels as if she is being scolded. She watches his hand, watches as he takes his cup of tea. His hand. A ring. A ring she has seen countless times in her dreams. A ring on a finger she has watched being chopped off again and again, blood dripping down on the tiles. A ring, and it suddenly makes sense, it always made sense. She puts her cup down with shaky hands.

“This ring is connected to the Crystal. Am I correct?”

The King looks at her. This time, there’s a shimmer of something new in his eyes.

“This is what the Empire wants. The Crystal and the Ring. But Insomnia’s magical wall – it’s too strong to break by brute force. So the Empire wants to get in. By pretending to propose a peace treaty.”

His eyes don’t leave hers. She feels every breath deep inside her chest. He doesn’t seem surprised by her words, not amused. As if he was just waiting for them to leave her lips.

“You know that as well,” she concludes. “You know about the Empire’s plans.”

“I do,” he says.

“Then why don’t you do anything about it? Why did you agree?”

King Regis smiles. It seems sad, somehow. “Because I won’t allow for them to take neither the Crystal nor the Ring. We are preparing for the worst case right this moment.”

“You overestimate your own powers.” The words leave her lips too fast to hold them back, and she automatically clasps a hand over her mouth.

The only response she gets is a weak laugh. “Or you underestimate them.”

“I,” she begins, making sure to control her thoughts, “I dreamt about it. I dreamt about them taking the ring. I dreamt about your finger being chopped off your hand. I dreamt about what would happen, and I …” She swallows down her doubts. “As the Oracle, I assure you that this will happen. You will lose the Ring to the Empire.”

He still smiles. It begins to unnerve her. “Have your dreams told you what would have happened had I not agreed to the Empire’s proposal?”

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t flinch away from his piercing eyes.

“Good. You wouldn’t have wanted to know.”

“What could be worse,” she says, her voice harder than she had expected, “than all of Eos descending into chaos?”

“Sacrificing my own son to prevent just that.”

For a moment, Lunafreya is speechless. For a moment, she wonders how much the gods really know. How many what-ifs they made possible. How many they decided to share with her, the Oracle herself. She can’t say she doesn’t understand. She reaches for her cup of tea, taking a sip. It doesn’t calm her down in the slightest.

“Then let us prevent both,” she says. “If there is no Ring to steal, the Empire won’t get their hands on it.”

King Regis looks at her, odd amusement in his eyes. “Are you suggesting I run away? Just like you did?”

“I didn’t run. I was one step ahead.”

He laughs. “Lady Lunafreya. Do you really think a king can pack his belongings and venture out, leaving his people behind? Do you really think it is that easy?”

It’s the only possibility, she suddenly knows. She is aware of how childish her plans might sound, but in the back of her head, a voice whispers that there will be no other way to save the King than to get him away. She puts down her cup, then scratches the back of her hand.

“Make one of your most trusted council members take your place. I want to change Eos’ fate, but I cannot do it without protecting you.”

“You can. Be at Noctis’ side when he needs it.”

Something flares up inside her. Something entirely unfamiliar. “No,” she says, a word so powerful it echoes in the room. “Right now, Eos’ fate lies in your hands, not Prince Noctis’. Right now, my duty is to be at the King’s side, and that is you. Until you take my words serious, I will refuse to marry your son. I will refuse to lend a helping hand in the destruction of this land.”

Heavy silence settles between them. Lunafreya feels her hand shake. She doesn’t know if it’s fear she feels, or fury, or both. She keeps returning King Regis’ gaze. She won’t turn away.

“Those are bold words, I must admit,” he says.

She doesn’t know how to respond. So she keeps quiet.

“You want us to run from the Empire.” There’s laughter in his voice. She doesn’t like it. “You think it will save us. You want me to leave my kingdom behind. And then? What then?”

“We will ask the gods to help us create our own path.”

“So you want to defy the gods themselves, and in the next breath ask them for help?”

“If it is necessary, yes.”

Silence again. She knows she has lost when King Regis leans back with another laugh. “My dear Lunafreya,” he says, “there’s a lot you have yet to learn.”

Gentiana told her about the True King. A Lucian king destined to save the world. She knew from the start it was Prince Noctis who would one day grow up to be just that. She used to dream about him sitting on a throne, his face that of the powerful man he would eventually become. Whenever she woke up, the image became hazy until it vanished from her mind completely.

The True King. Gentiana treated Prince Noctis like one, but in the silence of the late night, Lunafreya wonders if even the gods’ messengers can make mistakes.

There’s a secret passageway in the West of the city. King Regis is waiting, his robe removed from his attire. In his almost casual outfit, he looks like a civilian, the air of royalty entirely lost. Next to the King, Clarus shakes his head.

“I am still convinced this is one of the worst ideas you’ve ever had, Regis.”

“Not my idea.” A smile spreads on his lips. “Lady Lunafreya is not only stubborn, but surprisingly convinced of her own beliefs.”

“I’ll take this as a compliment.” She returns his smile.

“After you interrupted our meetings countless times? After you tried to convince the council of your ideas again and again?” Clarus gives her a long look. “I’m not really sure if you should take it as a compliment, Lady Lunafreya.”

“I changed the King’s fate by my own hands,” she says, head held high. “I believe that surely is something to be proud of.”

Clarus laughs drily. “And I’m still not convinced your visions tell us the exact future. You are the Oracle, no fortune teller.”

“Please, Clarus,” King Regis chimes in. “Maybe Lunafreya is right. Maybe there is a point at which we must question our faith in our gods, and our faith in the paths they have planned for us.” He pauses for a second. “My only duty as a king is to protect my kingdom. My duty as a father is to protect my son. And if Lunafreya’s plans lead to both, I will happily follow her.”

Their goodbyes are short-lived, but Lunafreya can tell what Clarus is feeling by the way he puts a hand on King Regis’ shoulder, his fingers trembling. Apart from an impressive amount of money and some clothes, they aren’t carrying much with them. A small bag on her shoulders, not much of a burden. Most supplies can be bought on the way, anyway.

On which way, Clarus asked her numerous times.

We will see, was the only answer Lunafreya could offer him.

The passageway leads through the city’s sewers. She has to help King Regis get through narrower passages, has to steady him as they walk over slippery concrete. It’s dark in there, the only source of light they were given a flashlight. The smell is even worse. Filthy water touches the hem of her dress. Luckily enough, the stains don’t show on the black fabric.

She has only been in Insomnia for two days, long enough to keep the Empire out and to forge out plans. She kind of misses the city already.

They are exhausted when they finally get to leave the sewers, finding themselves between high mountains, a small streamlet of dirty water beneath their feet. King Regis’ face seems pale and calm underneath the morning sun, but his hard breathing is proof of his endeavors. She puts a hand on his shoulder. Touching him has become surprisingly easy, and she guesses it’s for the best as long as they are on the run together.

“You made the right decision,” she whispers. “I’m certain you did.”

He’s leaning heavily on his cane. His smile is almost hidden under his beard. “You say things like that with such conviction. Your willpower really is something else.”

“I think you have to believe in yourself in order to believe in your actions. Right?”

King Regis laughs. She starts to think she likes the sound.

In the dawn of the morning, they start walking. The last few daemons hide away from the sunlight, clearing the path for them. Lunafreya knows they won’t come far by feet, not in the King’s state. Leide’s vast fields lie before them. In the distance, many miles away, she can already see the gas station the King kept talking about. For now, it’s the only real goal they have.

So she follows it.

It takes them almost until midday to arrive at Hammerhead. They were silent during their trip, most of all because King Regis seems too exhausted to speak. The sun’s harsh light heats her skin until it becomes painful. When Lunafreya presses a finger against her reddened arm, it leaves a white mark which vanishes again within seconds.

“I’ve caused you a sunburn,” King Regis says as they are trying to catch their breaths in the shadows of Hammerhead’s buildings. “I apologize. I know I’m not as quick on my feet as I used to be.” He laughs, and it sounds so dishonest that Lunafreya winces.

“Please, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

The amusement fades from his face. His stern look is somehow frightening, she thinks. “I’m beginning to think that you might be too selfless for your own good.”

She opens her mouth to answer, but by then, another voice interrupts them, disbelief coloring the words.

“You gotta be kidding me. The King himself, here in Hammerhead?”

Lunafreya can only watch as a fond smile appears on the King’s lips. She doesn’t know the man who’s approaching them, a cap on his head and his posture speaking of his old age. Something about the scene seems almost too intimate to feel comfortable watching it, so she takes a few steps back, leaning against one of the pillars which hold up the canopy. She listens to their conversation as they are hugging and patting their backs, and she is slowly starting to put the pieces together. An old friend, so close that the man’s eyes seem to fill with tears.

“Ya old bastard,” the man says with a laugh. “Didn’t think you’d get your ass down here ever again.”

Hearing such words directed at the King himself somehow feels odd. For a moment, she wonders just how little she actually knows about him.

She watches. Their conversation makes little sense to her – something about years having gone by, names she has never heard, Clarus’ name. It takes some time until her own name is mentioned, and when it is, both the man and the King look at her. She tries to smile.

“The Oracle, huh,” the stranger says. “Havin’ both the King and the Oracle at Hammerhead … Guess I’m some lucky guy.”

Lunafreya comes closer, hands firmly clasped, and bows her head. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t quite catch your name.”

“Cid,” he says. “Stop with your polite nonsense. No use in bowin’ to me, ya hear?”

Before she knows it, a smile has formed on her lips.

They eat the nearby diner, something quick and filling, and in the evening, King Regis leaves the little trailer they rented to speak with Cid. Lunafreya stays back, alone. The trailer is too empty and too silent, so she steps outside. The two men’s conversation, their deep laughs can be heard from the distance. Nobody else is here with her. She stares at the fields before her, sees deamons floating over the ground. Black fog accompanies them. It trickles down in thick waves. They growl, some loudly enough to make her shiver. Clouds hide the moon from view.

“Heya,” she hears someone say behind her.

“Good evening,” she retorts automatically, turning around to meet a young woman’s eyes. Blonde and pretty and with sun-kissed skin. Lunafreya cocks her head. “Can I help you?”

“Just wanted to see for myself who paw-paw kept blabberin’ about.” The woman comes closer, arms crossed behind her back. “Lady Lunafreya, huh? That’s some funny coincidence, havin’ you here just after your groom-to-be went on his merry way.”

She blinks. “You mean Prince Noctis?”

“Yep. Car broke down. Had to get that purdy engine up to speed again.”

If this is the sign the gods wanted to send her all along, she has no idea what to do with it. She knows they were supposed to get married in Altissia. But nobody is telling her to go there either. Neither the gods themselves nor King Regis. Noctis is safe, and at least for now, the King and herself are as well.

She holds herself back from shaking her head. “How is he doing?”

“Frankly? Hella excited. Wouldn’t admit it to me, but I’m sure he wants to see ya.” The woman smiles. It looks a bit sad. “What ‘bout you? Don’t seem too happy, I gotta admit.”

“I don’t think the wedding is going to happen.”

Instead of looking at the woman, Lunafreya looks down at her hands, at her ring finger. Thin and boney. Nails that aren’t as well looked after as they used to be – chipped, uneven, matt.

“I’m sorry,” she eventually breaks the silence again. “Your name was?”

“Cindy. That old man’s granddaughter.”

“Cid and Cindy.” Lunafreya has to grin, and Cindy returns it without a moment of hesitation.

“Don’t know the details,” Cindy says. “But if you ain’t marrying the Prince, then why are y’all journeyin’ around like that?”

“Let’s just say: there’s some other things that we’ve got to take care of.”

“Mysterious. Shouldn’t have expected less.” Cindy nudges her arm. “Kinda destryoin’ all my hopes there, too. Ya know, could have been some kinda dream wedding.”

“Could have been,” Lunafreya repeats, stretching her ring finger, bending it upwards until it’s starting to hurt. “Some things ultimately aren’t meant to be.”

“Might be true.”

The night is cold and somehow lonely, and Lunafreya lets go of her finger, feeling the pain subside bit after bit.

“Something I can pass on to him?”

Lunafreya smiles. “No. Thank you.”

She doesn’t want to see the look Cindy sends her, so she waits until Cindy silently says her goodbyes and she is alone again. From the garage, King Regis’ laughter reaches her ears, surrounds her, the only sound that is left between nothingness. She closes her eyes, and nothing happens.

The first time she realizes the true difficulty of their journey, it’s pouring down hard, and not even the tiny cave they found can provide a good enough protection from the rain. She is soaked from head to toe, teeth clattering. When she looks at King Regis, she notices that his eyes are closed. He radiates warmth, but it’s not enough to make her freeze any less.

Duscae lies before them, a painting of greyish green and blue. It’s getting dark. Lunafreya doesn’t know how they survived until now. Cid lent them a car that broke down after a few miles, and it would have taken far too long for Cindy to reach them and fix the engine.

If that’s the path the gods wanted her to take, they will guide her. She is sure they will.

She feels his presence like needles prickling underneath her skin. Titan is near. A god, a being greater than any human could ever be. Something calls her to him, a part of her that will never allow her to find peace, that whispered in the back of her mind since the day she was born.

King Regis can fight. But she knows that he is in constant pain, that his bones are already weak and that every move costs him more energy than it should, and the words leave her lips in a haste.

“I will beg Titan for help.”

The King laughs beside her, eyes still closed. “And what makes you think he will answer your call, dear? He is in a deep slumber.”

“The presence of the True King will awaken him.”

The laughter subsides. Rain pours down. She is cold and miserable, her dress clinging to her skin. If this is the path the gods chose for them, she wonders why they stay silent.

“I’m not the True King.”

She exhales. “How do you know?”

“If I was, I would know.”

“And if I tell you as the Oracle?”

He turns to her, eyes hard and stern. “Why do you think I sent my son away?”

She doesn’t look away. She is tired of looking away. “Because you believed in your own truth more than in the objective one.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I’m saying,” she responds, grabbing his wrist. His warmth on her skin. Ignoring the wrinkles on his face and the air of authority that used to make her shrink down. “I’m saying that there is a reason we are here, right now. There’s a reason why I managed to get to you before the Empire could, and there’s a reason we came so far. There must be a reason.”

King Regis snorts. He doesn’t withdraw his hand. “We both knew from the start that this only prolongs what will inevitably happen. The Empire will find me. All we are doing is stalling for time.”

“You can’t think like that,” she whispers. Her grip gets stronger.

“It’s the truth, Lunafreya. I’m not the True King. I’m not the chosen one. All I can do is protect my people as long as possible and hope that my son will eventually grow into the position I’ve left him with.”

“You can’t say that,” she breathes. Her fingers are starting to hurt. The coldness bites her skin, sharp and unrelenting.

“I’m getting weaker,” he says, eyes not letting go of her. “Before falling for good, I will do my best to bring you to safety. Noctis needs you.”

Her hands become desperate, both gripping his fingers. The moment her skin touches his ring, sudden pain makes her yelp. It’s hot, reviving an instinct in her she thought was long buried. With new wonder, she takes his hands into hers, careful not to touch the ring. He lets her.

It suddenly makes sense. It all makes sense.

“This Ring that the Empire wants,” she says. “It’s draining you.”

This time, there’s only silence. Nothing but the sound of raindrops hitting the ground. Her hair sticks to her cheeks, and she wipes it off before looking up and into his eyes again.

“Why? What is it doing to you?”

Half a smile appears on his lips. It hurts to see him like this. “It’s connected to the Crystal. With its power, I can uphold Insomnia’s Wall.”

Slowly, her eyes wander to his fingers again. “That’s why they want it. Because with it, they could use the Crystal.” She shakes her head. “You’re sacrificing your whole life for your people.”

“As the King, this is my duty.”

A destiny he chose for himself. She swallows down any doubt, lets go of his hand. Instead, she lays her hands on his cheeks, holding him in place as she comes closer. She feels him freeze, and then she presses her forehead against his, closing her eyes.

It feels like pain, gifting a part of herself to another person. It feels a little bit like death, being ripped apart by invisible hands. Something hot spreads in her veins, raises to her head, fills her mind until she feels like her heart is going to explode. It’s only seconds. But it’s still there, this tiny part she will never get back, and when it’s done, she sinks down again, trying to control her breathing. As she backs away, the King stares at her.

“Did you …?” He doesn’t complete his sentence. It’s only subtle, some of his wrinkles not as deep as before, his skin just the slightest bit healthier, but it still makes her smile.

“As the Oracle, it’s my duty to heal people. So let me heal you.”

“Lunafreya,” he whispers. It’s a sound she has never heard from him, not in this tone, and she shivers. “The effects of using the Crystal are too strong for you to ever heal. You’ll crumble under the effort. Please – don’t.”

Her smile falls. “Do you feel better?”

“Yes, but it is not –”

“Good. Because if I’d known that your state is nothing natural, I would have intervened sooner.” She keeps looking at him, her jaw set. “You are my King. As such, I will protect you with my life.”

It seems like he wants to laugh, but instead he shakes his head, averting his gaze. Something about his reaction makes her cheek warm up. Their shoulders still touch as she looks ahead again, watching rain pour down.

“My days are counted, Lunafreya.” His voice is too small. “I’m not your King. I never was.”

“That’s nonsense. Your days aren’t counted.”

“Then you are turning a blind eye to the truth.”

“And you are forgetting the power of choosing your own fate.”

His laugh sounds cold and trickles down her skin. She doesn’t know what to say, how to make him understand. Doesn’t even know if she can believe her own words. She bites her lip. She tries not to cry. Something inside her is missing, and she feels like everything around her is slowly coming apart.

“Do you think,” she whispers, “my mother would have done things differently than I do?”

He stays silent for a while. It’s getting darker, and she desperately hopes deamons won’t find them in their small cave. Despite King Regi’s skills as a swordsman, they would be done for.

“She died a brave woman,” he answers. “She would have been proud of you.”

Lunafreya watches blades of grass being pushed down by the weight of raindrops. She hesitates. The question won’t leave her lips, so she decides on another one. “Were you close? You and my mother.”

A hum. “Sylvia and my wife used to have extensive dinners together. They’d keep their husbands away from the dining hall and empty whole bottles of wine.” When she looks at him, she can see him smile softly. “Aulea loved to visit Tenebrae. The scenery, the people. And Sylvia loved her visitors. I’d say she might have been just a little bit less stubborn than you. But she had the same heart of gold.”

Again, it’s not an answer to her question, and the way he smiles makes something inside her burn up. A licking, ugly flame. She draws her eyebrows together and tries to remember her mother’s face. While Ravus always reacted with cold anger whenever she tried to talk about their mother, there was a lingering feeling inside Lunafreya’s heart at the mention of the name, only abstract and out of reach. She almost feels guilty about it.

“Maybe she wouldn’t have done what I am doing,” she says. “Maybe she would have waited for a sign of the gods. As it should be. Because the Oracle is but a mere tool, isn’t that so?”

She doesn’t expect an answer. His voice makes her flinch.

“You are proof that it isn’t so. But even though we can try our best to run from our destiny, the gods’ will is inevitable.” Thunder roars in the distance. Seconds pass. “It’s a truth I fought against for years. Maybe it’s a truth we have to fight against. To prove our own worth.”

“Inevitable,” she repeats quietly. “Do you think the gods are just?”

“Do you think they are?”

She doesn’t want to think about it, but it’s an endless thought, words that won’t leave her mind. “If they are just, then why did the gods let both my mother and your wife die?” she asks, voice trembling. A question that hurts so much she winces the next second.

Nighttime arrives, every last light being swallowed by darkness. Daemons start crawling over the field. None of them pays any attention to the tiny cave hidden between rocks, but fear shakes her nonetheless. There’s nothing she can do but wait.

“Just because I believe the gods’ words,” King Regis whispers, “doesn’t mean I don’t detest their decisions.”

She closes her eyes from the darkness. “But even though they took your wife, you won’t fight against their decision to take your son, too.”

“I am. Right this moment, I am fighting.”

“While anticipating your downfall all along.”

He doesn’t disagree.

Their shoulders still touch. His warmth doesn’t help to drive away the coldness eating her heart.

They will face Titan, and Lunafreya knows she has to be ready. It’s a sunny day, the humid temperatures making her skin itch, and Regis is beside her, leaning heavily against a tree trunk while trying not to collapse on the spot. Her hands are shaking. They escaped from the monsters attacking them, but the gaping wound on his stomach makes her heart sink to her knees. Blood has painted his clothes red, glistening in the sunlight.

“It’s going to be all right,” she whispers. His labored breathing causes sweat to break out on her skin. She tries to calm herself down, tries to concentrate on the here and now. On what she has to do. On how to save him.

When she reaches for his face, he grabs her hand and pushes it down. “Lunafreya. Don’t. Just let me …” His words get lost in a pained groan.

It’s stupid. It’s honestly stupid, because he is looking so much better already, wrinkles slowly disappearing and making him appear more and more like a man his age. He doesn’t need a cane anymore, and his fighting skills have improved significantly, and yet he refuses to let her help him. Even though he is her King. Even though it’s the only thing she can do.

“I’m fine,” she assures him. Because her body isn’t getting weaker. Because she doesn’t feel like everything inside her is a floating mess, broken into tiny pieces. Because she isn’t blacking out sometimes, colors dancing before her eyelids, images she can’t understand until she throws up, her whole body shaking with the effort not to break like a fragile toy.

She grabs his face again and presses her forehead against his, ignoring the way he tries to push her away. The wound is too deep, must be too painful for him to manage more than a weak shove. Burning pain races through her veins. She tries not to cry, but it’s getting too much. She told him it’s okay, that she wouldn’t break down, that her healing powers were enough to save both him and her – and she feels herself being torn apart, piece by piece. He can’t see her cry. He can’t realize that she is getting lost, that her body doesn’t feel like it should, that her mind is fractured. That she is dying.

Before he can back away from her, she leans forward and presses her lips against his.

She is still crying. It doesn’t taste like anything, it’s senseless, and her fingers are shaking. His breath hitches. It takes seconds until he grabs her shoulders and finally shoves her back. There is no lingering feeling, no excited thump of her heart. Only the hope that he mistakes her trembling lips for embarrassment. He stares at her, eyes wide, searching for something on her face.

“You shouldn’t,” he starts. Interrupts himself. “Why did you …?” he tries again.

Who cares? The gods sure don’t, and if it was their will to join the True King and the Oracle, they may have succeeded. She remembers Gentiana’s soft smiles whenever she saw Lunafreya and Noctis playing together, and they were just kids, and how the hell could have Lunafreya known what it means to give her whole life to one single person?

So she leans forward again, kissing him with all the softness she can muster.

She doesn’t know if it’s what she really wants. Her hand feels for the wound on Regis’ stomach, but it is gone, and she feels him wince underneath her touch. He doesn’t kiss her back. He doesn’t move. It’s messed up, and it only makes her cry harder, and his beard tickles her skin. She quickly moves back again. His hands drop from her shoulders. His breathing isn’t even, but he’s looking healthier already. A mature, confident man. A man she could give her life to.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes, and she wipes over her dampened cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

She is about to fall to the ground. Regis catches her the moment her knees give away. Her vision is blurry, her limbs don’t feel like her own. She can’t even be ashamed of what happened. She doesn’t regret it either. She has deviated from the path set for her, and it’s the only fate she truly deserves.

“Promise me,” she hears him whisper into her ear. “Promise me you won’t waste your powers on me ever again. Promise me.”

She screws her eyelids shut. “I will give my life for you. That’s the only promise I can give you.”

A low mumble. A sigh. He holds her close, his warmth on her skin. He seems stronger now. As if years of his life have been given back to him. It doesn’t matter that those years belonged to her once. There’s not much meaning to her life if the people she swore to protect are gone for good.

She clutches his shirt, tries to stop crying. His arms are the only thing keeping her from falling to pieces.

A field of blue sylleblossoms. The aroma stings in her nose. Wherever she looks, blue flowers fill her vision, and in her fractured state of mind, she begins to realize that it’s a dream.

She dreaded this moment. But her dream version isn’t as scared. She simply waits for what is about to unfold, and the familiar voice sounds behind her, dark and echoing.

“The Oracle has chosen her fate. The Six have decided: so it shall be. The one the Oracle seeks is not the one she puts her faith in. She has strayed from the path her bloodline was blessed with, and the Six shall give her freedom. For the decisions she made can never be taken back.”

Her dream version isn’t afraid, so she laughs. “The freedom of death, you mean.”

“The freedom of death is the only destiny all of humankind shares.”

She understands. Even though she doesn’t want to.

“May there be a world in which the Oracle is freed of the shackles such a gruesome future holds,” Gentiana finally says.

Lunafreya has never heard her speak with such sadness, and when she wakes up, tears sting in her eyes.

Next to her, Regis is still sleeping. He looks healthy, nothing left of the old, fragile man she met weeks ago. Her memories of him are hazy, but it reminds her of the time he stayed with her family in Tenebrae, his injured son by his side. Back then, worry drew lines over his face. The same lines she can spot now. She reaches for his face, lets her finger wander over his temple. He stirs in his sleep, but doesn’t wake up.

It’s not even morning. Cold sweat makes her skin sticky. She leaves their tent as quietly as possible and steps into moonlight. The Disk of Duscae glisters underneath the starry firmament. Their campfire’s light drives deamons away, and she sits down beside it, feeding the weak flame with the wood they gathered the day before.

Odd marks have formed on her skin. Too dark and too big to be birthmarks. She has started wearing a jacket even when the temperatures are too warm for one. Whenever they pass a lake, she looks at her reflection, searching for dark spots on her face. For a short period of time, they were in Lestallum, but people started to whisper about her – and especially about Regis, a face that seemed familiar to them. At least she had mirrors there. Now they are alone.

The words echo in the back of her head. She wishes Gentiana would speak to her face to face. Take her into her arms and tell her everything will be all right in the end. For a moment, she wonders why the gods wouldn’t send their messenger sooner. But the answer isn’t hard to guess – only hard to admit. She scratches one of the marks on her skin. So dark it’s almost black, numb to the touch.

The only price humans will ever pay for choosing their own paths is death, she suddenly realizes.

Titan is slumbering, waiting. Her body protests at the mere thought, but there is no turning back. Her forehead is hot to the touch. She wonders what her mother would do. She wonders what all the Oracles before her mother would have done. She wonders how some of them lived a long life when their only purpose was to serve, giving their lives to strangers. Piece by piece, fiber after fiber, until there is nothing left to give.

At least her bloodline will be continued by Ravus. At least her decision won’t erase the Oracle’s existence from Eos.

For a very short, very dreadful moment, she feels incredibly sorry for her future niece.

Movements behind her. She doesn’t look up. Instead she waits for Regis to join her, sitting so close to her that their shoulders almost touch. She is shaking, she realizes. It almost makes her laugh. Her body doesn’t feel like her own as she reaches for Regis’ hand, holding it with so much strength her fingers cramp.

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” she says.

“You couldn’t sleep?”

“No.”

“Are you still sure you want to do this?”

“Yes.”

A life can be so meaningless. She wishes she could give him more than that. She wishes he could give his son more than that. She wishes Noctis would understand why things turned out like this. Running from their deaths is one thing. Never knowing if they can really change fate just by avoiding a destiny that will eventually catch up with them – it tears at her until she slides closer to Regis. Seeking comfort in his touch. Trying to find herself again.

They’ve spoken enough times. There is nothing left to say. And when she lifts her chin, when her lips find his, he doesn’t back away.

**Author's Note:**

> Very belated fic exchange with my lovely Mali. The prompt was, "Luna defies her fate and runs away with Regis". I had a lot of fun - thank you for brainstorming with me ❤
> 
> Please check out [her fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21382246) too - some quality crack right there!


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